Bound In Beast Flesh -- Rotten Recursion
#6 of Bound In Beast Flesh: Transformation RPG Scraps
I think I outdid myself, somehow.
Expect to see more stories about this character--and remember, different things can happen to him (or her, maybe?), in different timelines. Who says he only ever becomes a fox? It's gonna be a game, right?
Heh heh heh.
Also, I'm trying to develop a sex life, to provide better naughty literature. Though my roomie is resisting splendiferously. Anxiety, and not knowing what you want, seem to be a staple of my partner. I'm glad, to a degree, though. It's good to have a counterbalance for my impulsiveness.
You awaken, stark naked, in a strange place. You're not sure what day it is, or what time. All you know, is you feel the warmth of animals, sharing their smelly pelts with your bare skin. Above, you can see the faintest rays of sunlight, poking through the soil-and-root roof of wherever you are.
You let out a muffled cry as a long, serpentine boa of stinking fur, slips over your mouth, and gentle female fingers run across your stomach and chest, as slender arms embrace you.
"Welcome back, hunter." a familiar voice whispers, in your ear.
"No. No...!" you groan, faintly, trying to get up from a warm bed of fox tails, and nuzzling vulpes vulpes vixens. Both cozzily curl about your legs; lazily relaxing, and in slumber, respectively.
"We had a fun time with you. You make quite the Casanova, to the harem. Can you imagine how many children you'll father?"
One vixen opens its green eyes, and happily nips your toe with its sharp teeth--just ever so gently, like a pet cat. The thought that you have been... 'lovers' with beasts such as this one, makes your stomach turn. You squirm uncomfortably, helpless and nauseated by the closeness of your zoo of would-be-brides.
"Don't feel bad." your adversary whispers, with a soft chuckle. "I have some medicine to make the change, for you again." She says, licking your ear, with a long canine snout, that you feel press against your neck and gently nip. As she says 'medicine', you feel her drop something warm and heavy onto your chest, and stick squishily.
You immediately know what it is, and furrow your brow, clenching your nose and eyes shut.
"See, we gave you a little allergy," she explains," "Since you had so much fun with this before, after all. Now, whenever you touch our kind's scent trail, you'll feel... interesting. Consider it our way of helping you break into your new life, as one of our family."
You reach to grab the clods of fox scat, and she embraces your arms.
"Just watch!" she chides, turning fascinatedly to your groin, as white dog fox's hairs begin growing down from your shit-stained navel.
"No. Get... get off!" You shout, pushing her aside--and causing a small fox to yelp, as you step on its tail, righting yourself.
She slides in the dust, and picks herself up, all eight tails, long black nails, and a wedge-shaped skull with just enough skull capacity, and the right eye shape and presence of head hair, to look formerly human. Her long black locks and her eight tails weave together, giving a ghostly shadow's impression, and her violently green eyes stand out over her all-black muzzle.
"Just watch. Feel it. It's in you, and this is all it takes to come out again. Go on, encourage it." she suggests.
You're baffled, at a loss for words, as your skin pinkens around the brown shit-stains, before sprouting fur. Soon, hair is even prickling on your wrists, where you try to brush the feculence off, and your palms and fingertips begin to thicken into pink callouses. Terrified, you grab your skull, and feel the urges churning in your flesh, again. A pounding headache forms, as the scent of feces penetrates your nostrils, and you're looking down suddenly, with eyes wide, feeling... haha-funny...
...Crazy...
...Good.
A nasty, slightly obsessed grin curls on your face, as you pick the fox's droppings up like a bar of soap, and begin smearing yourself. Everywhere. And soon, everything is feeling somehow... 'better'. Your senses feel more acute. Black fur outright pushes from every follicle, and your dirty fingernails crack and form fox nails. With a rub of your butt, your tails begin plumping out, and you massage them in filth too, until they simply 'explode' with sleek, long black hairs, ending in tufted tips that are the same white color as your belly. The smell of aroused, musky foxes mounts, as you feel a shift in your legs, and they too mutate: becoming spurred, delicate, and half-pawed, baring thick pink soles, with four padded toes to a foot.
You smear your dick, practically trying to mold the dung around your groin, and soon your sheathe is mounting to consume your manhood, which slithers defeatedly inside, as it morphs into a proper, raw red-pink fox dong.
Finally, you toss what little round bits of the vixen poop you can in your mouth, and swallow, and your body simply gives up altogether. Rows of manteats sprout in purest ebony, from out of your barreled white chest. Your ears reach up high above your head, trumpeting out into their proper, angular, fur-filled ones. Your face contorts in a mixture of pain and pleasure, as your nose fattens out into a black pad, and exquisitely stretches as far from your face as it can get. Your dirty tongue, embittered with the taste of dung, thickens, and begins drooling copiously, and your teeth bulge from your gums, sharp and perfect, yellow canine ones. Carnassals displace molars, and your gums and lips themselves develop black spots. Finally, with a wicked giggle, whiskers prickle their way out of your brow and snout, as brown human hair and eyebrows are subsumed, and shed away into a sea of black, growing up your face and neck.
You squat and take a huge dump, squirting yellow, canine jizz, into the air, from your suddenly prominent penis. A vixen or two gets it on their heads--one even opens her mouth in a yawn--spurts enter in as it snaps shut, and the vixen looks pleased as it licks its lips and continues to sleep. Several of them greet you, flirting, and squirting you with urine, eying you with slit-eyes and anticipation, as you wag your tails and flirt, taking in your sexy admirers.
You feel bad in all the right ways... and still you. Suddenly, private alone time feels like it's going to be a lot more fun.
The one who brought you this pleasure, wraps her arms around your halfbreed chest, and tongues your fur clean, as she softens one pawed hand back into a human maiden's silky fingertips, and jacks you off.
"Feeling better?" she asks.
"Never... better." You groan, slinking back into the pile of females for awhile, as she dives in, and begins playing with your whiskery muzzle.
Having accepted the deepening corruption, you feel like you've reached a whole other level, of strength, that not even sermons and meditation could give you. In the months to pass, you learn bits and pieces of your lover's knowledge, gaining magic to turn steel to waste, and to tempt weak humans with suggestions, that will leave them fox-brained, if they have been bitten by your ilk. You watch numerous vixens give birth, and you make a promise to your lover, whose name is Shanon, to take back the fields from the nearby village, and send its denizens crawling on all fours, ready for the next season's rut, and this one's young.
It's going to be a good future, for you, the champion fallen to foxes. You think you will start devising a name, to give you a reputation humans will fear, as they steel their picks and pitchforks.